


Perfectly Content

by softestpunk



Series: Vampires Purr, Okay? [2]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Again, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, also again, vampire purring, you get the picture I feel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 05:03:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15187388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softestpunk/pseuds/softestpunk
Summary: Knowing now that Regis can purr, Geralt's curiosity eventually gets the better of him. (Extremely makes more sense if you read the first in the series, uh... first).





	Perfectly Content

Geralt woke to find Regis napping, snoring softly beside him. They’d obviously been separated at some point during the night, and Geralt suspected that he’d been responsible for that.

His head was pounding… less. He felt mostly okay. A little unsteady, like he wouldn’t be doing much other than sitting in the garden today, but no worse than that.

Regis was to thank for his current state. He could have been miserable for days without help.

Geralt reached out to touch his friend, unsure whether he wanted to wake him or not. Regis saved him the indecision by starting awake before Geralt even made contact, blinking owlishly at Geralt for a moment before narrowing his eyes to look him over more critically.

“Your heartbeat is back to normal,” he murmured, relief obvious in his voice. “You seem to be in the clear.”

Geralt nodded, sure that was true based on how much better he felt.

“Thanks,” he said. “For helping me out.”

Regis smiled a warm, but weary smile at him. “Always, my dear. I don’t suppose I could convince you to _stop_ putting yourself in harm’s way?”

“It’s kind of in my nature,” Geralt shrugged.

“And it is in _my_ nature to drink you dry, and yet I resist the temptation because I enjoy your company,” Regis said. “While I realise the analogy isn’t perfect…”

Geralt snorted. “I’ll take the day off,” he said. He took most days off, now. But if a villager came pounding on his door and begging for help…

It was hard to refuse when the only other option was the so-called knights errant, who really weren’t equipped to handle… much of anything.

“You would struggle to do anything else,” Regis said. “But I suppose I must take what I can get.”

“You’re sticking around?” Geralt asked.

“I have a particularly difficult patient to attend to here,” Regis responded. “I ought to simply move in to your wine cellar.”

“Or,” Geralt began, remembering a thought he’d had yesterday. “You could take the guest room. And it could stop being the guest room and just be… your room. If you wanted.”

Regis’ tongue darted out to wet his lips. “May I take some time to consider your very generous offer?” Regis asked.

Which was a surprise, because Geralt had expected a flat out refusal. The fact that _he_ was lonely didn't mean Regis was. Or that he’d want to live here for other reasons.

Maybe he was just being polite.

“I have to ask a weird question,” Geralt began, unsure how to phrase this.

“Almost all of your questions seem strange to me,” Regis said. “It's one of your most fascinating qualities.”

“Did I hallucinate you… purring? Or was that…?”

Regis chuckled. “That was quite real. I thought it might soothe you. Since you fell asleep almost immediately, I assume it worked.”

“It completely neutralised the pain,” Geralt said. “Or maybe distracted me from it? I don't know.”

“Really?” Regis asked, apparently surprised and intrigued.

“Uh… yeah?” Geralt scratched the back of his neck. “That's what I remember, anyway.”

“Interesting,” Regis murmured, looking Geralt up and down. “Well, I'm glad it was more effective than I imagined.”

Geralt had assumed Regis knew exactly how it would work, but then…

“Never did that for me before. Or anyone else, as far as I remember.”

“I imagined it would disturb you,” Regis said. “You have since demonstrated that you are not easily disturbed, at least by the strangeness of vampires. You have seen worse.”

“I wouldn't say disturbed. Just a little surprised. I guess I keep forgetting that I don't know shit about vampires.”

“The knowledge is yours for the asking. Though I realise that there are many questions you wouldn't think to ask. I will make efforts to explain.”

Geralt realised belatedly that he’d given Regis a subject to _talk_ about, which he was probably going to regret later.

Although.

He _was_ lonely, and the sound of Regis’ voice was comforting in a way Geralt couldn't quite explain. He liked having him around.

He’d had a lot of time to miss him, and he wasn't over it yet.

“Okay,” Geralt agreed, too tired to care all that much what he was agreeing to. “Breakfast?” he offered, figuring he had to get out of bed sometime.

“I was afraid you’d never ask,” Regis said, and before Geralt could even register that he’d moved, he was behind him.

Geralt rolled over to find Regis standing at the edge of the bed, close enough to be leaned on if he needed it, studying his bookshelf as though it was the most interesting thing in the world.

He climbed out of the bed, sure he didn’t need to lean on anyone until his knees nearly gave out on him and he had to grab for Regis to stop himself from falling.

Regis didn’t even struggle a _little_ to support his weight, and he’d never really thought about that before, but here they were. Despite that they’d _just_ been discussing the fact that he was a vampire, Geralt constantly… not _forgot_ , exactly, but just… didn’t quite remember. Didn’t _think_ about it, until Regis did something no human could.

Like purring.

He was still wrapping his head around that one.

Regis helped him sit as a wave of dizziness and nausea washed over Geralt, making his head spin and his stomach turn.

“Perhaps you’re not quite in a position to stand just yet,” Regis said with his normal talent for stating the obvious.

Geralt grunted, because he was uncomfortable and disappointed in himself and couldn’t trust anything that he might _say_ right now.

Regis’ hand on his forehead was cool and soothing, and he’d never bothered to think much about why it was fine if Regis touched him unexpectedly but not if anyone else did. Maybe it was because he was a vampire. If Geralt couldn’t _see_ Regis, he had no way of sensing his presence if Regis didn’t want to make himself known.

That probably transferred over.

Regis sighed and nudged him back down into the bed. “I appear to have made the mistake of masking the symptoms instead of curing them,” Regis said.

He was already climbing into the bed beside Geralt again, and Geralt didn’t have the strength or the inclination to argue about it.

He _liked_ it when Regis held him, and maybe he shouldn’t have, and maybe that needed some further thought, but… right now, he felt like crap, and whatever comfort he could get was fine by him.

Either way, Regis purred, and Geralt’s eyes slipped closed, and he really didn’t care one way or another, right now, why any of this was happening.

As long as it _was_ , he was happy.

***

The next time Regis purred for him, Geralt was holding _him_.

Geralt had been handed a contract to hunt down a mystery creature which had turned out to be a _human_ , and an alchemist at that, and one of very few people, he suspected to ever catch Regis off-guard.

Regis had insisted on coming with him when he’d heard the body count, since it’d only been a handful of days after Geralt had been thoroughly knocked on his ass over his last misadventure, and now Geralt’s guilt over the whole thing felt like it was gnawing at his bones.

It was hard to kill or injure a vampire, but apparently that didn’t stop certain poisons from making them violently ill. For hours, while all Geralt could do for Regis was be nearby and, once he realised it helped, stroke the back of his neck.

The effects of whatever the guy had dosed him with seemed to be wearing off, but Regis had complained of being tired, so Geralt had hauled him to a bed, shoved him into it, and decided after too little thought to return the favour Regis had done for him, even if he couldn’t help by purring.

Being held helped, he was pretty sure. Knowing someone was there _helped_ , or it’d helped him when he was hurt and afraid. Maybe vampires didn’t really feel a lot of fear, but Regis hadn’t argued, and now…

Now, he was purring again.

Geralt swallowed. “You don’t need to do that,” he said. “Save your strength.”

“It isn’t voluntary,” Regis murmured, the vibrations in his chest giving his voice a strange, distant quality. “But it’s good for me, in any case.”

“Oh.” Geralt shifted his hold a little, resisting the temptation to hold Regis any tighter. There was no way Geralt could crush him, and he _knew_ that, but Regis both looked and felt fragile, especially right now, and it was hard to get past that and remember that he really wasn’t, and this had been the equivalent of a few moments of feeling unwell to him.

“When you say it’s not voluntary…”

“It isn’t something I can consciously control,” Regis said. “In the way that a human can’t stop, for example, their mouth producing saliva. It just _is_. Though it requires certain conditions to occur.”

“Conditions like…?”

“Contentment,” Regis said. “Safety. Happiness, under other circumstances, though I assure you that I wouldn’t go so far as to describe myself, currently, as _happy_.”

“So…” Geralt paused to puzzle that one out. “You feel… safe?”

“And content,” Regis confirmed. “Your presence is very comforting, and the worst of my illness has passed.”

“I’m gonna kill that guy when I catch him,” Geralt growled.

Regis’ purring got a little louder, which Geralt suspected he should have been alarmed by, but he wasn’t. No one hurt Regis. Not again. Not if they wanted to live to see another sunrise.

“It would likely yield more useful results to capture him alive,” Regis murmured. “Though I am gratified that you think me worth killing for.”

“Obviously,” Geralt said. “You’re…”

He paused, searching for a word that wasn’t _mine_.

Regis would take that the wrong way, he was sure.

“One of my oldest friends,” Geralt finished instead.

Regis chuckled. “At nearly five hundred, I would expect so,” he said.

“I think Avallac’h might have you beat. Although I’m not sure _friend_ is the right word, there. And that’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” Regis responded sleepily. “Allow an old, sick vampire to tease you a little.”

Geralt huffed. “How about he leaves the monster hunting to me instead?”

“I suppose I’m not in a position to argue,” Regis said, closing his eyes. “Although it’s difficult to complain about the end result.”

“Throwing up for a couple of hours is worth it for a nap?” Geralt asked, incredulous.

“The company is a factor in my assessment.” Regis shifted his weight just a little, snuggling back against Geralt’s chest.

Geralt’s heart just about stopped dead.

Regis was _enjoying_ this. And he’d kind of said so, but not in so many words, and Geralt was too slow to realise what he was being told because he was an idiot.

“Oh,” he managed eventually, pulse pounding in his ears.

“Do not think too hard on this, Geralt,” Regis said, his voice barely above a whisper now. “Vampires are simply very physical creatures. It would always be my preference to share a bed.”

The pounding in Geralt’s ears eased off a little, and he decided to pretend it had never happened in the first place.

“Could’ve said before now.”

“Ah, yes,” Regis began. “I can imagine the conversation now. ‘Geralt, if it wouldn’t be too much trouble, vampires are vastly happier when they’re in contact with a friend. Can I share your bedroll?’ Followed shortly, I imagine, by death threats of various levels of sincerity.”

Geralt snorted. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“You are,” Regis agreed. “I plan on savouring it while it lasts.”

“Get some sleep, Regis,” Geralt said. “I promise not to go anywhere.”

***

A week later, Geralt still hadn’t stopped thinking about Regis purring.

Regis had also started leaving some of his things in and around the villa, which Geralt took to be a sign that he was moving in at one of the two speeds vampires did things: either instantly, or painfully slowly.

This was the latter, but he didn’t mind so much. It meant Regis was around more often, and he had someone to say good night to an hour or so before the sun rose, and it wasn’t weird for either of them to want to sleep through the morning. Geralt wasn’t necessarily clear on where Regis slept, but he knew the guest bed had been used a few times.

And he knew Regis slept even less than he did, so the fact that he was choosing to do so _here_ was pointed. They hadn’t discussed it again, but he was clearly at least thinking--really thinking--about taking up Geralt’s offer.

Which didn’t make Geralt think about the purring any less. Not when Regis was always right there.

Not when they’d finally reached the point where Regis would _completely_ drop his guard around Geralt, so much so that Geralt could occasionally surprise him by moving or touching him when he was focused on something else or had his eyes closed.

Like right now, lounging in an armchair like he wasn’t sure how they worked, his nose deep in a book. Marlene and Barnabas-Basil had gone home hours ago, so it was just the two of them in the villa now.

Geralt took the opportunity to study Regis, relaxed and presumably happy, and then a thought occurred to him. He held his breath and strained his ears, focusing as hard as he could on Regis and…

There it was. The faintest purring sound.

So he did it more often than Geralt thought, but it was normally too quiet to hear above all the other noise. Even the sound of Geralt’s own heartbeat was enough to make it hard to hear.

He pushed off the wall he’d been leaning on, crossing to where Regis was sitting and reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder, touching the pad of his thumb to the exposed skin of his neck.

The effect was immediate, Regis’ purring jumping in volume the second Geralt made contact with him. He _had_ said he liked it, and he obviously wasn’t kidding.

“Geralt,” Regis said eventually, apparently not disturbed by suddenly being touched.

Geralt would probably have broken his nose.

Although… not _Regis_ , and not least of all because a broken nose was the equivalent of a light slap to a vampire. He didn’t lash out at Regis. His body was used to his scent, to the general feeling of his presence, and Geralt trusted him.

Regis had never laid a finger on Geralt with the intention of hurting him. Even when Geralt had been threatening to kill him.

He’d thought, back then, that he was serious. That he would have been _able_ to.

He knew differently now. Sometimes, he thought of what Dettlaff had done, and how it wasn’t so different from what _Regis_ had once done, and how he couldn’t have killed Regis for it if he’d been the one involved.

Which, ultimately, was why Dettlaff had gotten away. That, and because he was important to Regis.

And Regis, Geralt was very slowly grasping, was important to him.

“Good book?” Geralt asked, shifting his thumb just a little, not quite stroking yet, but testing to see if it’d change anything.

It did. The rumbling quality of the purr changed just a little, the sound hitting a frequency that made the base of Geralt’s skull tingle.

He hadn’t figured out yet _why_ he was doing this, aside from natural witcher curiosity. Regis teased him about being part vampire, but Geralt was never sure that he wasn’t part cat.

Regis hummed in the affirmative, shifting his position just a little. The movement gave Geralt more access to the back of his neck, so it definitely seemed deliberate.

Geralt took that as an invitation to experiment more, his other hand coming up so he could rub circles into Regis’ neck with both thumbs, tracing the shape of deceptively powerful muscles, working out knots that made him wonder, again, how exactly vampires _worked_ , and also why he’d never really touched Regis before.

His skin was surprisingly soft, smooth under Geralt’s fingers, not _quite_ human, but hard to say exactly how. It was just a feeling, and he realised now that if he _had_ touched Regis, really touched him in the beginning, he would have known that the genial, elderly barber-surgeon disguise was exactly that.

The illusion of humanity wasn’t even skin deep. Regis really just _looked_ that way. He didn’t even feel human to touch.

Geralt really didn’t mind, though. Not when Regis’ purring was getting louder, echoing in Geralt’s ears and making that tingling feeling fizz in his brain.

A soft _oh_ from Regis snapped Geralt out of it, the quality of the sound unmistakable.

Regis was getting off on this.

Of _course_ he was. Geralt couldn’t remember doing this for anyone he didn’t plan on screwing later before now.

He took his hands away, fairly sure they’d reached the point where Regis would want to stop.

Regis tilted his head to look up at Geralt, and the way his eyes had gone completely black and were glinting in the light of the candle he was reading by was unmistakable, too.

Geralt swallowed, but he couldn’t quite make himself look away.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “Curiosity got the better of me.”

“I’m always happy to satisfy your curiosity, Geralt,” Regis said evenly, despite the fact that Geralt could smell arousal rolling off him now, and that wasn’t _quite_ human, either, but he knew what he was sensing.

Geralt wet his lips, unsure what to say.

“Did you find the answer you were looking for?” Regis asked, as though he wasn’t panting softly, eyes glazed with need, lips parted as he looked at Geralt like a starving man might look at a feast.

Under other circumstances, with a vampire he didn’t absolutely trust, Geralt would have expected to be drained dry before he had a chance to stop it.

With an unexpected shiver, he realised that _draining_ him probably wasn’t what Regis had in mind.

“Not sure,” Geralt said, because he wasn’t. He wasn’t sure of anything right now.

Especially not the hot, insistent tug of arousal in his _own_ belly, a direct response to sensing Regis’.

Regis set the book down in his lap, hands folded over it, and Geralt was just about at the point where he would have liked to have something to cover his own crotch with, so he assumed Regis was in a similar position.

“Take your time,” Regis said, his voice only a tiny bit strained. “There’s no rush.”

The thing was, Geralt’s brain had already jumped to _can we cuddle after?_

He suspected the answer was yes.

He also… seemed to want that.

Which was new, but not particularly upsetting. Regis was his friend, and he was safe, and Geralt’s curiosity definitely extended to what he’d be like in bed, now that he’d given it a moment’s thought.

“So, uh…” Geralt scratched the back of his neck. “Bed?”

Regis disappeared in a flash, and for the split second he was gone, Geralt panicked that he’d said the wrong thing, that Regis was upset, or even disgusted.

But then he was _back_ , an inch from Geralt’s face, eyes pitch black, and then his hands were on Geralt’s face, and their lips were crashing together, and _oh_.

Yeah, okay, this was fine. Great, even.

Regis didn’t quite taste human, either, but Geralt was way past the point of caring and this was a long way from his first monster, and Regis wasn’t really a _monster_ , anyway, he was one of the best and noblest creatures Geralt knew.

And also currently fucking Geralt’s mouth with his cool, clever tongue, apparently just as good at this as endless monologues. Better, even.

Geralt moaned as heat and want flooded his belly, his hands settling on Regis’ waist, fingers curling into the fabric of his thin linen shirt, a concession to the summer heat.

Regis rested their foreheads together just as Geralt’s lungs were starting to burn with the need to breathe, bursting into another low, rumbling purr that Geralt could feel vibrating through himself, too, like he had before.

That was so damned good he was pretty sure Regis was going to ruin him for humans entirely.

“Bed would be a lovely way to end the evening,” Regis murmured.

***

Regis kept purring while he fucked Geralt, and that wasn’t even the best part.

He’d turned out to be the opposite of shy once he was sure of what was on offer, stripping Geralt down methodically and running his hands all over his skin, tracing the paths of scars and the lines of muscles, making soft, delighted sounds the entire time.

Geralt had just _let_ him, because it was nice to be wanted, and everyone of Regis’  touches made him feel that way, from the light, exploratory sweep of his fingers over old wounds to the way he’d been eager to grab and hold… just about everywhere, finally pushing Geralt onto the bed and producing a vial of oil that he described as _viscous and neutral_.

He’d pulled it out of his _pocket_ , and Geralt was still coming to terms with the fact that Regis just… carried that kind of thing on him. Although, in hindsight, he shouldn’t have been surprised.

And now he was looking up at Regis with both knees hooked over his shoulders, surprisingly thick cock shoved right up to the hilt inside him, and it was the best time he’d had in _years_.

“You are everything I hoped for and more,” Regis said, the strength of his purring making his voice waver.

It also made his cock vibrate a little, which Geralt was thrilled to learn.

Geralt hadn’t thought to hope for anything at all, so he was a little lost here, but he was _definitely_ enjoying himself. Regis’ experience shone through in every touch, his centuries of knowledge all focused on making Geralt feel good, and hell, why _hadn’t_ he come up with the idea of sleeping with him before now, anyway?

Apparently Regis had been _hoping_ for this.

That… that felt good. Geralt wasn’t exactly unused to people finding him attractive, but he still _liked_ it, every time. Lots of other people spit at him.

Geralt moaned as Regis hit a sensitive spot inside him, his back arching and his vision whiting out temporarily, and that was enough to stop him _thinking_ so he could just _feel_.

Regis was hard, and a little cool compared to the heat of Geralt’s body, and strange as it was, Geralt liked it. Liked the way Regis could really fuck him, harder than anyone had, and he was probably holding _back_ , and while Geralt didn’t want to die doing this he kind of loved the idea of finally getting to fuck someone who was stronger than he was.

This was what everyone else liked about him, he assumed.

He gasped for breath, heart pounding in his ears, cock leaking onto his stomach, the sound of Regis’ purring echoing in his head and etching itself into his heart, the knowledge that this was about more than sex leaving Geralt’s head spinning.

Regis wasn’t _just_ getting off on this. He was happy.

So was Geralt. Happy in a way he’d forgotten he could be, the desperate loneliness he’d been carrying on his shoulders for _years_ now starting to ease off as Regis rocked his hips into Geralt and made soft, happy sounds that did even more for Geralt’s heart than they did for his cock.

Geralt’s orgasm took him by surprise, Regis hitting him _just_ right inside, just the once, and an overwhelming wave of pleasure rolling down his spine and through his gut, his back arching clear off the bed as he started to come, eyes screwed shut and jaw tight as he rode it out, hips still rocking to get more of Regis’ cock inside him, his body clenching to keep it there, savour the feeling and wring every last drop of pleasure he could out of it.

Regis was vastly less dramatic, a soft hitch of breath and a satisfied sigh the only sounds he made as a rush of fluid spilled into Geralt’s insides, setting off another wave of tingling pleasure and a full-body shudder.

For a long few moments, all Geralt could do was listen to the pounding of his own heartbeat in his ears and try to catch his breath, grunting softly as Regis pulled out of him.

Before he could even think about moving, Regis had turned him onto his side and wrapped his arms around him, cool lips pressed to the back of Geralt’s too-hot neck.

Damn he felt good. _Everything_ about Regis felt good, every time they touched.

“That was instructive,” Regis murmured, and Geralt would have been insulted, except he knew that _instructive_ was high praise coming from his strange, inquisitive vampire who valued knowledge above all else.

His vampire.

Geralt swallowed. He’d had that thought a lot lately, and he wasn’t sure if it was _new_ , but he was definitely starting to notice how much he meant it.

Probably better not to mention it to Regis just yet. Not until he was sure it’d be a welcome sentiment.

“First witcher?” Geralt asked, amused.

“First human,” Regis responded. “Well. Very nearly human, anyway.”

Geralt blinked. Really?

“ _Really?_ ” he asked aloud.

Regis hummed in the affirmative, a low, soothing purr starting up in his chest.

“Really,” he confirmed. “Is it such a surprise? How many vampires have you shared a bed with?”

Well, when Regis put it _that_ way.

“Just the one,” Geralt said. “Why, how many vampires have _you_ slept with?”

Regis chuckled. “Rather more,” he murmured. “Although I’m afraid you may have spoiled me.”

Geralt hummed, pleased with himself.

“You needn’t sound so smug,” Regis chastised, but between the purring and the fact that he sounded happier than Geralt had ever heard him, it was hard to take him seriously.

“Comes with the territory, sorry,” Geralt said. “Can’t help feeling like I won something.”

Regis’ purring got louder, and his arms tightened around Geralt in a way that reminded him of a cat getting a better grip on prey they were about to gut.

Not that he was afraid Regis might hurt him, but he could appreciate the reflexiveness of the gesture, the urge to hold him closer. It felt possessive.

So at least Geralt wasn’t the _only_ one feeling that way.

“I’m afraid you already had my undying loyalty,” Regis said.

“ _Undying_? Really?” Geralt responded, wrinkling his nose at the awful and definitely intentional pun.

“Comes with the territory,” Regis teased. “As you say.”

Geralt snorted. He’d known what he was getting into, and he didn’t really expect Regis to change now.

“I guess I can live with that,” Geralt murmured, sleep beginning to creep into the back of his mind. The thought of sleeping with Regis at his back made a sense of calm fall over him. Peace he hadn’t had in a long, long time.

“May I stay the night?” Regis asked, as though the answer wasn’t obvious.

Geralt cleared his throat, eyes falling closed as Regis’ purring and slow, steady heartbeat lulled him to sleep. “I was hoping you’d just _stay_.”

“Oh,” Regis responded, clearly a little surprised. “Well. I’d like that.”

“Good,” Geralt mumbled, the strength to continue this conversation failing him. “Night Regis.”

“Good night, Geralt,” Regis replied, squeezing him close again and bursting into a louder, deeper purr.

Geralt sighed and let his brain switch off, perfectly content.


End file.
